A check on CaringBridge

I have jumped back on to Caring Bridge today to look through many of the posts that were left for us over the past 13 months. As I read and reread them, I am overwhelmed with the outpouring of love that was sent to us each and every day.

I also noted that this site is not at 199,946 – almost 200,000 visit to check on Frank, on us, and to leave a message of hope and caring.

Caring Bridge has been a support system like no other – each day I check in and read the messages for us and it brings me strength to move on one more day.

And day after day, I was able to move on.

Moving away from this site has been difficult and sad for me. But lately, it has become a bit easier to see myself not here, but on the new site, and living within the world of meeting with law enforcement and other teams to talk about being prepared for things that can happen, and to take a look at the life you are living.

Is it what you want? Is it where you want to be? Do you talk with your spouse? Do you know what their wishes are for their life?

These are all questions we look at each day, and talk with people all the time that ask how we are doing. We are doing okay, but it is a daily emotional and conversational check in.

Each day, we walk in it, talk about it, and live through it. We believe it can continue to get better. We will live for it to get better.

Frank continues to be a road warrior each and every day. He just headed off to the gym for another run, and he spends hours a day working on the iPad on his cognitive rehab programs and memory games. There is no one I know that gives 110% to every task. He takes every recommendation and pushes through it – his focus is fierce.

But don’t take the focus that all days are sunshine. The wait for another year will be hardest for him to face. He is trying to move through it, and not focus on the year in front of him, but sometimes, it is hard not to get lost in that “year.”

We are also transitioning Frank back to his normal life hours – staying up later, and sleeping in more. It is how he has always been, but we forced that transition for therapy when we were in the hospital. His body is now fighting back, and he wants to return to what is “his” normal. I am fighting with myself to let this happen, my natural instinct is to say no.

But I have to let go of the control of his life. I try a little bit each day, and today has been a hard one.

For those of you on the LisabethMackall.com website, you may get this notification twice. I am working on a new notification from the website, so if you get this twice, I apologize for the overload of Mackall information.